


Nightwing's Secret

by Alfreds_Mustache



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Babs is a good bro, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay Pride, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Language, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Protective Batfamily, Protective Bruce Wayne, Secrets, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfreds_Mustache/pseuds/Alfreds_Mustache
Summary: Why isn't anybody else like this? How did no one except him seem to have this -- this problem. And yes, it was definitely a problem, Dick decided, because he couldn't believe that he was the only one. Not in his line of business, anyway.And, if he were being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t help but also feel utterly and hopelessly scared.**Or: Dick Grayson has a secret, one that he's never told anyone before--not since sixth grade, when he first realized it; when he realized that he was into...boys. Now, nearly ten years later, he's finally ready to tell his family. Or, at least, that's what he's telling himself.Really, he's scared shitless right now.





	1. Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. All rights go to DC Comics.
> 
> WARNING: there will be some homophobic feelings & language in this fic!!! It shouldn't be too violent or anything, and everything will turn out fine in the end, but BE AWARE that this fic DOES deal with homophobia/coming out/ acceptance.
> 
> <3

This shouldn't matter; he  _ knows  _ that it shouldn’t matter, that he shouldn’t care  _ this much _ about something so juvenile, so... _ pointless _ . At least, juvenile and pointless in comparison to his nightly activities in crime fighting. Really, if there was anything to be concerned about -- that he  _ should  _ be concerned about -- it should probably be the frustrating lack of sleep he’s been getting, the odd,  _ abnormal  _ stillness in the Gotham air that was the off-putting result of limited criminal activity, or even the alarming fact that Bruce and Jason were suddenly being  _ civil  _ to one another.

He was Nightwing -- skilled olympic-level acrobat, protector of Bludhaven, former leader of Jump City’s Teen Titans and Happy Harbour’s covert Young Justice team; he was the Dark Knight’s first protege, the first and youngest  _ child  _ to ever take to crime-fighting, and a proud (modest) unofficially-official member of the Justice League of America.

_ So why then _ , he wondered fruitlessly,  _ was this  _ bothering  _ him so much? _

Why isn't anybody else like this? How did  _ no one _ except him seem to have this -- this  _ problem _ . And yes, it was definitely a problem, Dick decided, because he couldn't believe that he was the  _ only one _ . Not in his line of business, anyway.

Sure, other  _ celebrity  _ figures had certainly stepped forward, especially in recent years, and most (if not all) had received uproarous reactions of excitement, of  _ pride _ .

(In his mind, he chuffed a small, self-deprecating laugh at that poor attempt at a pun.)

He wasn't exactly worried about his public image -- that is, assuming he still had one that was of significant interest to anyone; he’d long since learned to get over what the public and media had to say about him in particular. Most of what the media had to say was gossipy bullshit anyway, and half of the tabloids about him during his teenage years had suggested the very thing he was so torn up about at the moment. So, really, the public wouldn’t be too surprised -- they would go ballistic with excitement at the revelation, of course, but it was still just a confirmation of what they had already guessed. Even if, at the time, the articles (the same ones that frequently reported on Bruce Wayne’s supposed “scandals”) were written purely to get the attention and money from average, Gothamite consumers.

Either way, his concern about the fact was focused primarily toward the life and relationships of his other persona. All of his friends, family members, long-time coworkers, and teammates; Would they look at him differently? Would they care?

He honestly didn’t know, because he had no references to go by, no experiences from other members of the crime-fighting arena to draw possible reactions and outcomes from… He was feeling rather stuck -- helpless, even -- at the moment, at what he was supposed to do.

And, if he were being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t help but also feel utterly and hopelessly  _ scared _ .

Because he -- son of Bruce Wayne, leader to his friends, and older brother of 5 siblings -- was gay.

_ What the fuck am I going to do? _


	2. Babs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs is the first person Dick goes to... Is he really ready to do this?
> 
> (In which Babs is a good friend.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it’s not mine. All rights go to DC Comics.
> 
> WARNING: Descriptions of panic attack/anxiety attack and gay panic/fear of homophobia. Lots of swearing.  
(No violence or sexual/suggestive content.)
> 
> So sorry, Dickie... <3

His palms were sweating, his chest felt tight, and he couldn’t keep himself from worrying his teeth over his chapped lower-lip. He felt pathetic, unable to curb and suppress his emotions as he’d done growing up -- as he  _ still  _ does. He’s found that wearing a mask and having a badass reputation makes doing so significantly easier. The purpose of the mask was to hide himself -- his identity -- from criminals and from the general public. Slowly and increasingly, however, he’d found that it was doing more than that. Well, more like  _ he’d  _ begun to take advantage of what the mask  _ already  _ had to offer.

He was wearing his mask more often than not, and he used it to hide himself -- his emotions, his desires, his personality -- from more and more of the world; from his family, his friends, his coworkers…

So, right now he was feeling rather...confused, among other things. Here he was, fully outfitted in his Nightwing suit, including equipment and mask, and yet he was  _ just barely _ keeping himself from simultaneously hyperventilating, throwing up, and passing out on Barbara’s fire-escape.

The fact that he flinched back -- which was practically the Bat-equivalent of jumping three feet in the air while screaming like a five-year-old in a haunted house -- when she drew back the blinds to unlock the window was, in itself, more than enough of a clue to Barbara that something was  _ very  _ wrong with her ex-turned-best-friend. As soon as she’d disabled the security measures around that particular window, she gestured that he could now come inside. 

Nightwing slid the pane open just wide enough to slip through, and Barbara wheeled herself backward to make room for him as he did so.

“I got your message,” she looked up at him as he stood, carefully studying his face. She hid her concern though; if he saw even a hint of worry in her expression he might put up a front and tell some bullshit story that he’d made up on the spot. Barbara should know, he’d done it plenty of times before, especially when he was still only her fourteen-year-old-self’s middle school crush (and even more so when they were dating). “What did you want to talk about?” she asked lowly, forcing her eyes to convey only mild curiosity. She raised a brow and tilted her head slightly, for dramatic effect.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, slowly and minutely enough to be noticeable only to the trained eye of a Bat. Barbara made sure to mentally store this small observation; whatever he was going to say would be of big enough consequence to make even The Nightwing -- the same one raised since age-nine on the streets of Gotham, and who currently worked days and nights in Gotham’s ugly fraternal twin city, Bludhaven -- nervous and practically shaking in his kevlar-lined boots.

Call it intuition, or maybe a sixth, bat-sense that she was unaware of, but...Something told her that this wasn’t about villainous plots or unusually-high criminal rates or a seemingly-impossible case that needed her expertise in order to crack…

This was something personal.

*

He didn’t know what to say. What was he  _ supposed _ to say in a situation like this? He’d never done this before, never known anybody who’d had to do this; no one he’d known personally, anyway. Maybe this was too soon, maybe he wasn’t as ready as he’d thought. If he wasn’t able to tell Babs, how the hell was he going to face Bruce? Or Jason? Or — fucking hell —  _ Wally? _

No, he couldn’t do this. Not here, not now, not even for Babs. Nope. There was  _ no fucking way _ that he could do this. He couldn’t. That’s all there was to it. He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t have even come here in the first place because now Babs is going to be suspicious because he isn’t saying what he came here to say and now he doesn’t know what to do because he’s too fucking scared and why-the-fuck is he just standing here instead of saying something— _ anything _ — or sitting down or leaving and  _ oh-god what the fuck am I doing and I CAN’T DO THIS— _

“Dick?” He felt a hand on his forearm. “Come sit down for me, because I’m not standing up for you.”

_ —I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this— _

Barbara’s crude joke went over his head as he let her gently lead him toward the kitchen table. He didn’t remember sitting down or taking off his mask, but somehow both had happened and Barbara was now sitting across from him, patiently sipping hot cocoa from a yellow mug.

Dick blinked, dispelling the daze he’d found himself under. Looking down at the table, he realized that Babs must’ve made cocoa for him, too.

He cleared his throat. “So…” he still didn’t know  _ what the fuck _ to say.

“So..?” Babs prompted, nestling her mug between her hands and the table.

_ Fuck, what do I do what do I do what do I do whatdoido whatdoidowhatdoido— _

“Dick...you know I’ll never judge you, right?”

He snapped his eyes up to meet hers. Suddenly, he felt like he was going to cry. What she’d just said was so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but right now, for right here, for twelve-fucking-years, that’s all he’s been wanting — needing — to hear from someone. It’d been  _ so damn long _ and now he felt just a little bit lighter than he did five seconds ago, and he was glad,  _ so fucking glad _ to have Barbara in his life and not only because of what she’d just said but because  _ she’d meant it _ .

Looking at his lap, he swallowed down the growing lump in his throat. He nodded without word.

Barbara took a slow sip of cocoa before sweeping her gaze around the room patiently, not pressing Dick to speak, but giving him time to collect himself without being stared at. She hummed, smiling. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it — and I literally think about everything — but, now that I’m sitting right here, next to you, drinking hot chocolate at three o’clock in the morning, I’m just now realizing…” she met Dick’s now-curious gaze, eyes sparkling like emeralds, “that there’s a weird-ass stain on the ceiling right there that’s either water damage or a yellowish-brown portal to the fiery depths of the underworld.”

Dick smiled—a real, although small, honest-to-god smile that had been absent from his face for a very, very long time. Barbara grinned back.

He could do this. If anyone would support him and be there for him and not treat him differently and not care in the slightest—it would be Babs,  _ always Babs _ .

Dick’s gaze searched hers, unsure of what he was searching for. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced away.

Barbara’s hand met his comfortingly. He swallowed, looking again into her kind, gentle eyes. She offered a small smile of encouragement, silently promising that she would be there,  _ no matter what _ .

“Babs, I...I’m...” he bit his lip. Suddenly, his breaths were coming in short gasps and his chest hurt and his heart was beating fast and his palms were sweating and he couldn’t breathe and oh-god— “I-I’m _ gay _ ,” he finally choked the words out. Along with them came a flood of tears he’d been holding back for for  _ so long _ . They poured from his eyes faster than he could blink them away and, suddenly, he was sobbing into the sweatshirt-adorned shoulder of his best friend. He held onto her like a lifeline, fingers gripping cloth as though his life depended on it—and right then, in that moment of gratitude of acceptance of  _ unbelievable relief _ — it might as well have been. Barbara held him tightly in her arms, reminding him that she was here, and that she always would be and that she loved him so much for  _ who he was _ and that she was so  _ grateful _ to be  _ part of his life. _

“I’m here, Dickie,” she said softly, hugging her arms tighter around his trembling frame, “I’m here.”


	3. Jay (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick struggles. Jason is frustrated, but trying to be a good brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jay was only going to have one chapter but I split what I had into two parts; this is the first part, and I’m still working on the second.
> 
> Sorry I made you guys wait so long. Shit happened, but taking up writing’s been kinda cathartic, so. Here ya go. :)

“So… why are we here again?” Jason raised a brow in his direction, the neon lights from behind the bar cast a pink aura across his face.

Dick looked up to meet his gaze, hiding his nervousness behind a blinding smile. “What, can’t I just spend some quality time with my biggest little brother?” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly at the taller man seated beside him.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Last I checked,  _ no _ ,” he muttered before taking a swig from his bottle. Dikck chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Seriously, Dickhead,” he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, “You’ve been pestering me for days; something’s up.”

Dick sighed, shifting his gaze once more to the drink in his hands. “I don’t know, Jay. It’s…” he chewed his lip “... _ complicated _ .” He began swirling the ice around with his straw.

“I just--” Dick bit his lip. His eyes wandered around the room, looking for a distraction, something to tamper down his thoughts just enough so he could calmly and rationally talk to Jason. He let his gaze settle on the bartender skillfully mixing drinks for other patrons down at the other end of the bar. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, same as Dick, and had a blond crew cut. He was toned but lithe; the body of a man who liked to stay fit without having to actually work out--probably a jogger. With thighs like those he must run twice a day at least… a body that toned would be good up on the high bars. Though he’d also have to be flexible in order to do that… among other things.

“Dick?”

Dicks eyes snapped back to his drink. He took a long gulp from his straw while desperately trying to suppress the intense heat he could feel crawling across his cheeks. He just hoped that Jason didn’t notice it (or the fact that he’d been checking out the cute,  _ male _ bartender). He must've forgotten to break for air because he found himself coughing up some of the drink that’d gone down the wrong pipe. His eyes watered and his nasal passages started to burn.

Jason gave his back a couple of hard whacks before Dick’s throat finally stopped seizing. He wiped his eyes, nodding a slent thanks to his brother.

He rolled his shoulders before hunching once again over the bar, arms crossed and resting on the counter.

Jason remained lazily upright in his seat, one hand on his drink, the other in his lap. His head was tilted to the side as he casually analyzed his brother. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going.

*

  
He’d been called out here so suddenly that he’d had to drop what he was doing just to attend this little meet-up at a bar with his older brother -- whom  _ didn’t drink _ , mind you. Whatever. Jason has known that whatever-the-fuck this was was not going to be a smiley visit, they weren’t here to simply ‘catch up’. Something was up with Dick and Jason didn’t have a clue as to what.

He suspected as much for as long as two weeks ago; Nightwing’d bailed on him just before a drugs-bust — a minor one, but Hood had still been pissed, then moped around his apartment in Blud for a few days (yes, he’d checked personally, and no he didn’t care), only to show up for dinner at the manor the following night with nothing but smiles and laughs and excuses.

Not unlike now.

He wished that Dick would just say what was on his fucking mind for once and stop putting up this ridiculously annoying front that was soobviously meant to distract from whatever the hell was really going on. And really, Jason was tired of it — of this utterly, typical,  _ Bat-like _ behavior. Dick was a natural performer, it was his thing, his gimmick, his good ol’ Grayson  _ charm _ . It shined through his nightly routines as Nightwing — a flourish of unnecessary flips and twists as he took down another criminal. It was also apparent (to a less acrobatic extent) when he was being Richard Grayson-Wayne, Gotham’s Golden Boy; he’d flash on of his dazzling smiles and suddenly girls were swooning, guys were shaking his hand, and everybody who didn’t know Dick —  _ Dick _ , the older brother, steadfast friend, reliable leader — were fooled. Fooled into thinking that the smiles and flourishes and charm were all that he was and that was that.

The thing about Dick Grayson was that he always had a mask on, whether to protect himself or (more likely) protect those he cared deeply about, Jason wasn’t entirely sure yet. Again, Dick was a performer; acting was natural, and it had its uses and came in incredibly handy at times. The problem, however, Jason had noticed, was that his brother didn’t know when to take the mask  _ off _ . It was almost like a defense mechanism; whenever something serious happens to someone else, Dick was suddenly  _ Nightwing _ : the strong, intelligent leader who will to do anything and everything in his power to make sure that  _ you’re okay. _ On the other hand, if something were to happen to  _ him _ , then suddenly he’s  _ Richard _ : nothing but charm and smiles as he laughs off the concern of others just to make sure that no one really knows what’s going on inside his head.

The smiles, the jokes; they were all distraction, really. And it took Jason coming back from the dead to finally see it, to realize that the Golden Boy who never did wrong, who never let anything or anyone get him down, who always seemed confident in who he was and was  _ always _ oh-so sickeningly  _ happy _ — was just another facade.

Jason wasn’t wont to care about things, or people for that matter. Usually he simply just didn’t give a fuck. But something was wrong with his usually-steadfast brother and it was setting him on edge.

Jason could see the tiredness behind those baby-blue eyes, the nervous tremor in his step, the darting, self-conscious glances over his shoulder…

He needed to know what was going on so that he could get on with his life and with not giving two shits about whatever was ailing his brother.

So, in short, he simply would not stand for Dick’s bullshit smiles today. He was here, he was listening, and he deserved some goddamn answers.

*

Jason followed Dick’s wandering gaze with mild annoyance. “What’re you lookin’ at him for?”

Dick startled, heart leaping into his throat as his cheeks began to blush furiously. “I-I don’t. Um. I. W-what?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Look. I came all the way out here so you could finally ‘fess up about whatever the fuck’s goin’ on with you— so  _ spill _ .” He stared unwaveringly into Dick’s jittery gaze.

“What?” Dick laughed. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Jay, I just wanna catch up—“

“Quit that bullshit right now,  _ Dick _ .”

The forcefulness of his voice made Dick shrink in on himself, and he gulped. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment under his brothers stare, and he lowered his eyes to his lap.

He didn’t know why he was trying to fool Jason; he invited him here specifically so that he could tell him. So why was this so hard? Why was he pretending? Why did he always feel the need to put up this stupid  _ act _ ? For crying out loud, this was  _ Jason _ . He wasn’t going to judge him for this— he most likely wouldn’t care. That’s why Jason was second on his list; he was saving the hard conversations — like Bruce — for last. Besides, Jason was his brother; they’d been through some pretty rough shit together as well as on their own, so this should be nothing. He shouldn’t care.

But Dick couldn’t help the neggling little voice in the back of his mind that kept arguing that Jason  _ would _ care. That he’d be disgusted and never want to look at him again. That this friendship, this mutual, brotherly respect for each other that they’d worked so hard for, now that they were finally getting along… that it would all disappear the second he said those words.

He couldn’t risk the emotional ruin of losing his brother again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I’m a little out of practice... let me know how I did, what you liked/ didn’t like, etc! <3


	4. Jay (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is concerned.
> 
> (Took me waaaay too long to finish Jay’s part... sorry bout that ;-;) ...Stay safe!!
> 
> *  
EDIT: ok so I literally just re-read last chapter, & realized that I describe Dick checking out the bartender, but in this chapter Dick has a boyfriend (Wally)... Maybe I’ll edit later but for now, I’m just gonna say it was subconscious attraction/ observation; he didn’t want to act on his basic attraction to the bartender, but couldn’t help himself from noticing that he was a handsome individual. He and Wally are exclusive and dating and in love!

_ He couldn’t risk the emotional ruin of losing his brother again. _

*

“I.. I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Jason raised an irritated brow, “or  _ won’t _ ?”

He simply shook his head. He couldn’t do this. Barbara’s reaction was better than he could’ve ever hoped for, but— that was just a fluke. Right? Babs was  _ Babs _ . This was  _ Jason _ . Jason would hate him. This would be the last time he’d ever be able to sit and simply  _ be _ with his brother. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t risk the consequences.

“I-I  _ can’t _ . Jay, I-“ Dick blinked his eyes furiously and suppressed the tremor in his voice. He needed to leave before he said something he’d regret, he needed to leave  _ now _ . “I have to go-“

He stood abruptly to leave, but was jerked none-too-gently back onto the barstool by Jason’s firm hand on his arm. He tried to pull away, but Jason’s grip remained firm.

“Dick,” he planted both hands on his brother’s shoulders and tried to capture the squirming man’s gaze. “Jesus Christ—Look at me, Dick!”

He couldn’t handle this. This was too much. Why did he think he could do this? What on earth had possessed him to believe that he was capable of this? Fuck, why was he doing this to himself?  _ Why? _

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of Jason’s judging glare.

Oh god—does he know already? He’d trusted Babs, had that been a mistake? Fucking hell, what had he done? He’d kept this a secret for so long for a reason!  _ Shit shit shit shit shit— _

“I can’t, Jay, I- I can’t! I can’t I  _ can’t— _ “

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe he had to breathe he needed air but his lungs weren’t working oh god what was wrong with him he needed to  _ breathe— _

  
“Hey.” Jason’s rumbling voice broke through his thoughts and suddenly his face was pressed into coarse fabric that smelled overwhelmingly of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Steady, warm,  _ comforting _ arms were suddenly around him and it felt so nice to be held but instead of feeling safe he felt scared—  
  


He wrenched himself free from Jason’s embrace and forced himself not to meet his confused gaze.

“Stop—just, just-  _ stop _ !”

“Dick, what the h—“

Fellas?” Suddenly the bartender was leaning into their little bubble. “Everything alright over here?”

Dick, hugging himself, took a few steps backward, eyes downcast as he did so. Then, before either Jason or the bartender could stop him, he turned and sprinted across the busy room, and out the door.

Jason sighed agitatedly and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s my brother,” he explained, “We’re  _ fine _ .” Then he stood up and made to follow Dick, but made sure to first mutter over his shoulder, “Thanks for the drinks.” He didn’t listen to the man’s protests that neither of them had paid their bill; Jason could deal with that later. Now… well, now he had a brother to track down.

*

He stepped into the cool, night air, eyes searching the slick streets for any sign of his brother. He ducked into the alley behind the bar. “Dick?” He called out as loudly as he dared in a seedy part of town like this.

He’d never seen his brother act like this before, it was just so.. out of character. If he was being completely honest with himself, it worried him.

Wearily, he scrubbed a hand over his face. When did everything in his life get so goddamn complicated? He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer to a loaded question like that. Sighing once to himself, he began making his way toward a nearby alleyway. It wasn’t really an alleyway, and didn't lead anywhere except the back entrance to the bar.

It was poorly-lit and damp, the only light coming from a street lamp at the mouth of the alleyway, which was reflected in the puddle-strewn gravel. He tried his hardest not to gag at the overwhelming stench of piss and garbage that affronted his nose. Quietly, he made his way past a cluster of garbage bins and dumpsters, , and around a guy who was passed out against the brick wall. He grimaced,  _ That explains the smell. _

  
  


His brother was hiding;  _ Where did Dick normally go to escape? _

One look skyward gave him his answer.

Still doing his best to take shallow breaths, he used one of the dumpsters as a springboard to launch himself at the nearest fire-escape. He easily grabbed hold of one of the rungs and used it to haul himself up onto the bottom-most platform.

It didn’t take long for him to scale the entire fire-escape—even though it was a fairly tall building (he could do it in his sleep if he wanted to; he literally did this for a living)—twenty seconds at most, not that he was counting. He paused for a moment when he reached the roof, if only to catch his breath.

Appreciating the feel of the cool night air returning to his lungs, he did a quick scan of the rooftop.

He spotted a silhouette perched on the opposite end of the building, next to a roof-access door and one of those industrial air vents.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he didn’t have to go chasing his brother halfway across town. He strode over to him slowly, making sure his footfalls were audible enough for the other to hear. As he approached, he could see that Dick was sitting on the rooftop’s ledge with his feet dangling precariously over the edge (his stomach might’ve roiled at the sight if he didn’t know for a fact that the older bird never went anywhere without his utility belt and grappling gun hidden somewhere on his person).

Noticing that Dick seemed significantly more calm than he was ten minutes ago, and hadn’t fled or shoved him away (as of yet), Jason figured it was safe to take a seat beside him on the ledge.

Neither said anything for a while, and Jason was able to observe the darkened city below. Cars were moving on the streets, though traffic had significantly thinned since he’d first arrived at the bar. People milled about the sidewalk; it wasn’t the dead of night yet, so it wasn’t unusual. The drizzle from earlier seemed to have also lifted, leaving heavy air and darkened skies in its wake. 

He turned to study his usually unflinching older brother. ( _ Older _ brother. That was something he often forgot; the way the two of them acted it’d always seemed like the other way around, like Jason was the older one. Being half a head taller than Dick didn’t help their case any.)

He was mildly surprised when it was Dick who broke the familiar silence.

“This is stupid.”

Jason was taken aback. That… hadn’t been what he was expecting. He raised an eyebrow to showcase his confusion, but remained silent.

“I mean,” Dick chewed his lower lip, then let out a heavy breath, resigned. “I came here to tell you something, and it’s not even a big deal.” He paused, fidgeted, and then backtracked, “Well—it’s a big deal to  _ me _ , but. I don’t know. I.. I don’t really know how to say it. Y’know?” Finally, he turned to look Jason in the eye, worry clear on his face. So far he was doing a pretty good job of keeping himself together, all things considered.

Jason waited for him to continue, but after a moment of intensely awkward, silent eye contact, Jason broke the silence. (Dick seemed too caught up in his own head to even notice it, but Jason was an impatient motherfucker, and needed anything but whatever this was.) He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze toward the city skyline. He could feel Dick’s eyes still trained on him—whether he was actually  _ looking _ at him, though, was another story.

“Whatever you called me out here for is important. I don’t care what kind of important it is, dumbass. It doesn’t have to be ‘end-of-the-world’ or ‘somebody-died’ to be classified under ‘important’.” (Dick’s gaze fell to his lap, where he started fidgeting with his hands uncomfortably.)

Jason pressed on. “Much as it kills me to say this—and yes, I  _ absolutely _ just dropped a death pun in there, you’re welcome—we’re bros. You’ve listened to me bitch about my personal life too many times to count, now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

The silence that followed was considerably more comfortable, albeit suspenseful, as Dick had yet to actually say what was on his mind. But Jason had put his two cents in, and hoped that it’d be enough to give his brother a bit of a confidence boost in order to do the same.

Dick passively hugged his arms around himself.

What he said next was so soft that Jason almost didn’t catch it over the sound of the rough wind blowing in from the harbor.

“I’m gay.”

It was a mumble, really. Had Jason heard that right? Just to be sure, he asked smartly: “...What?”

“ _ I’m gay, _ ” Dick reiterated, louder this time. He turned his head away from Jason, as though it physically pained him to see what his reaction to the news would be.

It took him a moment or two to actually process what had just been revealed, and okay,  _ yeah _ , now he could definitely see it and was surprised that he hadn’t caught on before now.

The night had taken an… interesting turn, to say the least. Though for some reason, Jason felt oddly touched. People didn’t exactly come to him with this kind of stuff everyday—or ever, really. It warmed him a little to know that someone valued his opinion so highly to actually trust him, to confide in him, to be afraid of what he might think. It showed that Jason’s opinion, to Dick at least,  _ mattered _ . And that was all that Jason had really wanted for a long time. He… fuck, he didn’t know how to put it into words; he said as much aloud.

“... I—“ he opened his mouth to continue, but stopped himself. Nothing came to him, nothing that felt right, at least. So he figured that before he got ahead of himself with the barrage of questions he had brewing in his head at the moment, he went simple. This was big news, however you chose to look at it, and was obviously hard for Dick to do. If he was Dick, he’d want to feel validated. Because he had been in Dick’s shoes before—not in a ‘coming out as gay’ kind of way, but there had been many times that Jason had confided in someone, told them something about himself that he was afraid they would judge him for; he knew just how much courage and gall that kind of thing took. And of all those times, the first thing he’d wanted more than anything was to feel  _ validated _ . (Now, Jason’s version of validation wasn’t the same as Dick’s; while being listened to and asked honest questions was enough for Jason, his tactile, self-critical, emotion-driven older brother would need more than a curt nod of approval (at least from those who were capable of more). And if he knew Dick, and he felt pretty confident that he did, well...

Nodding to himself, he rolled his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, hyper-aware of Dick’s crumbling resolve. After cracking his knuckles for good measure (it was really just for suspense), he rotated his upper body to face his older brother and, before Dick could say a word, enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

It took Dick a couple of seconds to get over his shock. Once he did, however, he tentatively— _ gratefully _ — wrapped his arms as best he could around his brother’s midriff.

They remained like that for a good minute, for which Dick was grateful. Hed been worried about Jason’s reaction in particular—Jason, his first brother, the one he’d failed time and again, whose trust he’d maybe finally built up after years of constant hurt-driven arguments and not seeing eye-to-eye… (After all the hard work they’d put in together just to get to this point of understanding between them, he’d been terrified that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back.)

Jason had become one of his primary go-tos when it came to needing someone to hang out with, to team up with, and to vent Bruce-related frustrations with. Jason had become more than a brother; now Dick would absolutely call him a friend.

Despite wanting to bask in the rarity of this hug, he decided to take pity on Jason and pulled away, smiling. This time it was the younger who broke the silence between them. (After of course clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders in a half-assed attempt to appear as though that wasn’t totally an emotional bonding moment.)

“What’s his name?”

Dick’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a startled laugh escaped his lips. “Seriously?” The immense relief and gratitude remained unspoken, but were heavily present in his tone of voice and in his now-glistening eyes.

“Big Bird,” Jason smirked, “I’m  _ dead _ fucking serious.”

“You really want to know?” Dick raised a brow and gave him a look. “And I’m completely sidestepping that pun, by the way.”

“I mean, only if you’re cool with it,” Jason spoke truthfully, even if part of him was squirming with curiosity. “I won’t pressure you into anything, ‘specially not after the night you’ve had.”

The older of the two took a moment to appreciate the astounding acceptance his brother had demonstrated tonight. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he joined his brother in looking out over the city.

“The night  _ I’ve _ had?” he teased, “Please; you chased an Olympic-level acrobat up a 25-story building in the dead of night,  _ in Gotham _ .”

That earned a scoff from Jason. “I like the little self-promotion you threw in there.”

“Hey, I only state facts.”

“So  _ you _ can ‘state facts’ but  _ I’m _ not allowed to make Robin-level puns about my untimely death?”

Dick rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “If by ‘untimely death’ you’re referring to being kidnapped and brutally beaten for hours on end by a crazed, clown-lunatic who then locked you—a fourteen-year-old kid— in a tiny room with enough explosives to down an aircraft carrier? That one?”

“... Okay, I  _ might _ see your point there,” he admitted while trying not to be impressed by Dick’s ability to simultaneously sound protective  _ and _ smug (a combination that frequently (frustratingly) won him arguments with all of his brothers). “ _ But _ , that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop, so  _ ha _ .”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re an asshole.”

A companionable silence settled over them, each grinning ear-to-ear like fools (like  _ brothers _ ) as they sat beside one another. Then,

“What’ll you do if I tell you his name?”

“Carefully store that tidbit of info away. Then, in the event that your mystery man ever decides to break your heart—I will hunt him down Liam Neesan-style and chop both of his balls off.”

Dick blinked at his brother, momentarily stunned but, really, not at all surprised. “Liam Neesan… as in the movie ‘Taken’?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, okay— _ deal _ .” Dick couldn’t contain the uproarious laugh at Jason’s joking-and-ridiculous-but-also-deadly-serious threat to his boyfriend. “But for now, I’ll just tell Wally you said ‘hi’.”

“I mean it,” Jason looked him dead in the eye, “You say the word, and I will  _ literally _ slice-n-dice that motherfucker’s speed-grapes.”

“Whatever you say, Jay,” he smiled, only slightly concerned for his red-headed, adorable boyfriend’s safety. “For his sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The ‘thank you’ went unsaid in the blustery Gotham night, and the subsequent ‘Anytime’ was returned in the form of a subtle nod and a shared, amiable ledge.

  
  



	5. Wally (Chapter 2.5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tells his best friend... and Wally surprises him.
> 
> Hopefully this chapter will fill in some significant gaps in the storyline that I accidentally created with the last chapter... That being said, it’s definitely a filler :P
> 
> (Also, I kinda rushed this, so I’m sorry about any grammar/spelling mistakes.)

Dick and Wally had agreed to meet at this diner in Central, a friendly establishment that they’d began frequenting in their early teenage years (it was far easier to hang out in the speedster’s hometown than in Gotham; less paparazzi to recognize Dick’s face and invade whatever they’d gone out to do).

Dick had ordered a cheeseburger and fries alongside a peanut butter milkshake. Wally had eaten three cheeseburgers, two orders of chicken fingers, four orders of fries, and three strawberry milkshakes.They had both finished their respective meals.

Dick couldn’t put it off any longer, and felt a pang of regret at the possibility that this would be his last non-awkward hangout with his longtime best friend.

He needed to do this. He owed Wally this much, at least.

“I… Wally, I’m-“ he averted his gaze to the floor, more embarrassed than ashamed and he wasn’t sure why. He forced himself to look his best friend in the eye. Shakily, he dragged a hand through his ebony locks.

_ Stop procrastinating and just  _ tell him  _ already,  _ he scolded himself. He was resigned, was ready to do this—but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t the most nervous he’d ever been in his life.

(Rationally, he knew that this wasn’t something to be more scared of than, say, the Joker or Deathstroke, but his mind had pretty much tossed all of his rational thinking out the window the second he decided to confront Wally.)

Wally, to his credit, met his gaze with unwavering emerald eyes and a supportive smile. This, in itself, was enough to make Dick’s heartbeat quicken and his breathing subtly pick up. Something like confidence— though this felt somehow warmer— surged in his chest, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. He puffed out a breath,

“I’m...gay, Wally.”

Wally blinked, his eyebrows raised marginally at the revelation… Then he smiled. “Dude, that’s great!”

Now it was Dick’s turn to blink, a mix of relief, confusion, and suspicion immediately beginning to stir in his gut. Not that he wasn’t immensely grateful for his best friend’s easy reception to the fact that he—again, his closest friend since childhood whom he’d shared many personal secrets with before—was homosexual. It just seemed…  _ too easy _ . He didn’t expect Wally to be angry, necessarily; if anything, he’d expected to see a little hurt flash in his eyes, maybe ask an unfiltered question right off the bat. (Wally was a speedster, he wasn’t exactly known for holding his tongue, the redhead was a notorious motormouth, after all.)

Wally chuckled awkwardly (a far more familiar sight to Dick, who felt himself smiling despite himself).

“I, uh,” Wally started, gaze darting, seemingly avoiding Dick. “I actually, um… Heh.” His cheeks turned a bright red, clashing against his orange hair in a fantastic way that Dick couldn’t help but become utterly entranced by.

As if sensing the burning of his cheeks, he promptly all but buried his face in his hands. (It didn’t appear to be anything especially concerning, like shame or horror; it felt more along the lines of profound embarrassment or painful awkwardness, as far as Dick could tell, at least.)

Wally continued, faster than normal, voice muffled from behind his palms, “Okay, I  _ swear _ that I’m not trying to take away this incredible moment from you, dude, because I mean  _ holy shit _ and thank you so much for trusting me but—and I  _ swear to god _ —I came here fully prepared to tell you that, um, that I—” he peeked his eyes through his fingers at his immensely-perplexed friend. “Dude—I’m  _ bi. _ ”

*

The two of them had laughed and hugged and cried for a good couple of hours. It was amazing and invigorating and cathartic.

They’d left the diner feeling a thousand pounds lighter than they each had going in, holding hands all the while.

And for the first time in their lives, neither of them cared who saw.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! If you have any thoughts or suggestions for this story & future chapters, let me know in the comments!


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